"I hope Brant knows what he's doing."
"What do you mean? He's accompanied three launch groups-"
"I wasn't talking about the launch, Anderson."
"Sir?"
"This Perry kid...Let's just say he's not your typical child."
"It was my belief that none of our children classify as normal."
"Compared to the usual battle school inductee, he's a wild card. The boy's defiant, which makes him a danger to the program. I don't even know why I agreed to this."
"You did it because you want to see Brant succeed; perhaps more than he himself."
"Maybe. I mean, what if he's right about the child? What if he can cure his sister? Or better yet, what if he's the one we're looking for?"
"I won't believe it until I see it, sir. Anyone of them might prove to be the best."
"So your Indian prodigy, you think she has an equal chance of commanding the fleet someday?"
"She tested more aggressive than Brant's little Da Vinci. She's far more capable of overall survival, and she has a good mind for battle."
"That's what they said about Perry's sister...and just look at her now."
"Virlomi has no such kinks, only pure potential."
"Good, now make sure she lives up to your expectations."
"I know how to do my job, sir."
"You're so certain of that, yet do any of us really have a clue what we're doing?"
"I should hope that the fate of humanity doesn't depend on guess work."
**************************************************
Jack closed his eyes, trying desperately to reorient himself in null-g as his body pulled upward against the straps that fastened him to the seat. He groaned slightly, his sketchbook digging mercilessly into his stomach, where he had it bound and hidden under the one piece uniform that they had given all the boys. He bent slightly because of the queasiness, which only made the book press tighter.
Jack shifted, trying to distribute the pain evenly in order to make it more bearable, but it was hard to move against the straps that held him from flying upward.
No. Jack told himself. Not upward. There is no up or down in null-g.
The space shuttle was now like an empty canvas. It could be flipped or turned any which way, and it would still be the same blank surface. There was no proper side to balance it on; it was merely up to the artist to decide what the bottom was.
Jack was the artist, able to bend gravity to his will. He was no longer pushing up against the fastenings; he was pulling down, hanging from the ceiling of the shuttle. He smiled slightly, now beginning to enjoy the lack of gravity.
He began to push his mind further, imagining that the floor was sideways, left and right becoming up and down. As soon as he thought of it this way, his perception shifted once more, and he now felt as though he were pushing forward.
With this in mind, his stomach settled...his muscles relaxing as he breathed out a sigh of relief.
A few of the boys began to talk again, jokingly as they had been doing before they boarded the shuttle. No one spoke of home, as if the topic was childish or simply unreachable. But Jack knew somehow that it was on everyone's mind, including his own.
He tried to discard the thoughts of a life he was leaving behind, but his father's breathe still lingered cold on his neck, his uncomfortable touches like dirt on his skin, his relentless abuse a stain on his memory.
It all started within three months of his mother's death, a tragedy that Jack could never forget. He had watched the wave of blond hair floating in the bath tub, swirling slightly as if her spirit had somehow lived on within her glowing locks. Jack had stood over her, a confused four year old, gazing down at the small figure submerged in water. A bottle of pills was lying sideways on the floor...empty.
It was only a few months later that his father's depression turned to cold rage and mild perversion.
He would never wish to go back. Home was a place filled with a fear that Jack wasn't able to comprehend.
Did any of these other boys experience these same feelings? He doubted it as he looked amongst them once more, their boisterous faces shining with foolish arrogance. Finally his eyes stopped on the person sitting next to him, and Jack was shocked to discover that it was a girl.
Her light brown skin and raven black hair told him that she was from India, a place whose culture grew strong, despite the recent taboos that labeled tradition and ethnicity as mere superstition.
"Good afternoon, children."
Jack's eyes flickered away from the Indian girl to Brant as he made his way along the handholds.
He stopped as he reached the front of the group, his fingers still wrapped tightly around the handles to keep him steady in null-g as he looked onto them with an expression of extreme hatred.
Jack was taken aback by the transformation. Previously in Peterson's office, the man had seemed distant, yet kindly. Now he looked as if this launch group brought him some acute inexplicable displeasure.
"Right now I see a group of boys, but by the time we reach our destination, you'll find that Battle school is a place for men and men only. So take this time to grow up, because little else will be tolerated."
Jack noted that Brant's eyes never left the face of the Indian girl.
Several of the kids around him stole glances as well, and none of their expressions were too kindly.
It was hard to believe that these boys could be so naive. Brant was obviously setting them up, and each of them was playing their role magnificently. It seemed as though his purpose was to get all of them to despise the only female presence in the group, perhaps to isolate her, perhaps to force the rest of them to bond in their common hatred.
But Jack wouldn't fall for it. He'd break down the entire system before he let the IF destroy another unfortunate girl.
And yet Brant's behavior had become a mystery to him. He had seemed so concerned the previous day about Emma's welfare, that it seemed illogical that he'd begrudge the presence of a woman in the military.
Brant had been right. Everything that he would encounter throughout battle school would be a puzzle, even the people that he had once foolishly trusted.
And thus, Jack learned his first lesson about military life. Trust was an illusion created by the strong as a means of controlling the weak. He wouldn't fall for it again.
"I want you all to realize that few of you here are destined to lead, while the others are destined to follow. So choose your path of greatness, and choose it wisely, for the measure of a man's deeds does not rest in magnitude of his actions, only in his decisions made."
Some of the boys around him were nodding thoughtfully, but Jack was already shaking his head.
Brant must have seen him, which is exactly what he had hoped for.
"You disagree with me, Perry?"
Jack scowled openly. He wouldn't censor himself or become a different person, just because the IF wished to turn him into a soldier. He hated authority, and wouldn't back down from a decent argument with an authoritarian figure.
"Of course I do."
He also didn't bother to say 'sir' afterwards. Such technicalities seemed like an awful waist of words.
"And would you like to explain to the rest of us what makes you think you have such a profound insight?"
"Well, it's not so much that my opinions of greatness differ from yours, I merely shook my head because hypocrites are always amusing to watch in their own hypocrisy. You're telling us that greatness is not determined by the scale of a person's accomplishments, only by his or her righteousness. However, the IF is destroying the innocence of hundreds of children to achieve some greater cause. That implies that the military, including you, is following the concept of Machiavelli, 'The end justifies the means.' You can't possibly stand here and tell us that the magnitude of our deeds has no importance, and then help the battle school find fresh new kids to bend towards their grand scheme."
Brant remained silent, reminding Jack once more of the man he had only met yesterday in Peterson's office.
However, unlike their previous conversation, they now had an audience, and he knew that this time his words would hold more weight. The other children would listen, and although few realized it, the seed of rebellion had been planted in each of their minds.
"Keep talking like that, soldier, and I'll personally see to it that you're iced fast enough to make your piss freeze over."
The other boys laughed in response to Brant's blatant pun about being sent earth side. Jack wanted to laugh too, only because he knew that he had won. Sure, they snicker now, but because of this they'd soon admire him, consider him a part of the group, they'd even follow him.
Jack didn't want to be a leader, it wasn't his nature. But if by doing so he brought these boys into rebellion, he would be accomplishing what he set out to do from the start...Ruin the system that surely ruined his sister.
Brant left, and the chatter built up once more.
Soon several of the boys attempted to engage him in conversation, but Jack merely listened, adding in one word responses here and there until the other person got tired of continuing the dialogue on their own.
This, of course, only added to their admiration. To them he seemed reserved and intelligent, calculative and calm.
And Jack knew exactly how to use their respect.
He turned to the girl next to him, and spoke loudly enough for everyone in the shuttle to hear, yet softly enough to remain dignified.
"Hi. I'm Jack Perry," he said with a kind smile. The other boys noticed this, for he hadn't bothered to introduce himself to any of them, nor had he looked upon them with such warmth.
The girl didn't smile back, only flashed an odd expression.
"Virlomi," She replied, tilting her head slightly, still with that unreadable look in her eyes.
Jack knew now that the girl would no longer be considered the outcast of the group. Instead she'd be up there on Jack's level of high regard, all because he had used their admiration to achieve some good in this battle school society.
"Well, it's nice to meet you Virlomi."
"Yeah," piped in one of the more stubborn boys who had glared at the girl only a few minutes ago, "It's always incredible to see an Indian woman without a herd of goats."
It was a dumb thing to say, only because everyone knew it was meant more to insult than to provoke friendly banter.
None of the other boys laughed, having quickly picked up on the new social order, unlike the Portuguese kid with his snide remarks.
Jack smirked.
"You'll do well to shut your mouth before any more of your stupidity can leak out." He replied coolly causing the others to laugh, including Virlomi.
The boy, whose name was Marco, realized his mistake, and quickly joined in, "Hey, take it easy, York...Some people are proud of their stupidity."
Everyone laughed again, and the mood of the shuttle was now light and friendly.
York. The kid had must have picked up on Jack's New York accent, and decided to make reference to it in his remark. He didn't know it then, but the nickname would stick with Jack throughout his years in battle school.
"Yeah, I think we're all guilty of being a little proud, and maybe even a little stupid," said Shaia, the Israeli boy who sat next to Marco, but who the others referred to as Shay.
"Some more than others," Virlomi quipped, causing laughter to rise yet again from the group.
"And yet the IF seems to think that we're geniuses." Jack said, raising an eyebrow.
Marco waved his hand, as if to dismiss the notion. "What do they know anyway? The fleet is comprised of old men who have nothing better to do than sit around analyzing the acts of children."
Everyone nodded, and now it seemed common knowledge that the grown ups were the people they should resent, not their fellow launchies.
Jack had united them, made them whole, despite the attempts of Brant to cause dissention within the group.
He brought the pieces of the puzzle together, he made the threads of the canvas pull tighter to each other, and caused the hearts of children to bind to one another so closely that later they'd wonder how it was possible to gain such loyal companions in a place that taught them to act alone, think alone, and be alone...right down to the core of their existence, until even hope seemed the impossible, dreams mere illusions, and faith the friend of fools.
"What do you mean? He's accompanied three launch groups-"
"I wasn't talking about the launch, Anderson."
"Sir?"
"This Perry kid...Let's just say he's not your typical child."
"It was my belief that none of our children classify as normal."
"Compared to the usual battle school inductee, he's a wild card. The boy's defiant, which makes him a danger to the program. I don't even know why I agreed to this."
"You did it because you want to see Brant succeed; perhaps more than he himself."
"Maybe. I mean, what if he's right about the child? What if he can cure his sister? Or better yet, what if he's the one we're looking for?"
"I won't believe it until I see it, sir. Anyone of them might prove to be the best."
"So your Indian prodigy, you think she has an equal chance of commanding the fleet someday?"
"She tested more aggressive than Brant's little Da Vinci. She's far more capable of overall survival, and she has a good mind for battle."
"That's what they said about Perry's sister...and just look at her now."
"Virlomi has no such kinks, only pure potential."
"Good, now make sure she lives up to your expectations."
"I know how to do my job, sir."
"You're so certain of that, yet do any of us really have a clue what we're doing?"
"I should hope that the fate of humanity doesn't depend on guess work."
**************************************************
Jack closed his eyes, trying desperately to reorient himself in null-g as his body pulled upward against the straps that fastened him to the seat. He groaned slightly, his sketchbook digging mercilessly into his stomach, where he had it bound and hidden under the one piece uniform that they had given all the boys. He bent slightly because of the queasiness, which only made the book press tighter.
Jack shifted, trying to distribute the pain evenly in order to make it more bearable, but it was hard to move against the straps that held him from flying upward.
No. Jack told himself. Not upward. There is no up or down in null-g.
The space shuttle was now like an empty canvas. It could be flipped or turned any which way, and it would still be the same blank surface. There was no proper side to balance it on; it was merely up to the artist to decide what the bottom was.
Jack was the artist, able to bend gravity to his will. He was no longer pushing up against the fastenings; he was pulling down, hanging from the ceiling of the shuttle. He smiled slightly, now beginning to enjoy the lack of gravity.
He began to push his mind further, imagining that the floor was sideways, left and right becoming up and down. As soon as he thought of it this way, his perception shifted once more, and he now felt as though he were pushing forward.
With this in mind, his stomach settled...his muscles relaxing as he breathed out a sigh of relief.
A few of the boys began to talk again, jokingly as they had been doing before they boarded the shuttle. No one spoke of home, as if the topic was childish or simply unreachable. But Jack knew somehow that it was on everyone's mind, including his own.
He tried to discard the thoughts of a life he was leaving behind, but his father's breathe still lingered cold on his neck, his uncomfortable touches like dirt on his skin, his relentless abuse a stain on his memory.
It all started within three months of his mother's death, a tragedy that Jack could never forget. He had watched the wave of blond hair floating in the bath tub, swirling slightly as if her spirit had somehow lived on within her glowing locks. Jack had stood over her, a confused four year old, gazing down at the small figure submerged in water. A bottle of pills was lying sideways on the floor...empty.
It was only a few months later that his father's depression turned to cold rage and mild perversion.
He would never wish to go back. Home was a place filled with a fear that Jack wasn't able to comprehend.
Did any of these other boys experience these same feelings? He doubted it as he looked amongst them once more, their boisterous faces shining with foolish arrogance. Finally his eyes stopped on the person sitting next to him, and Jack was shocked to discover that it was a girl.
Her light brown skin and raven black hair told him that she was from India, a place whose culture grew strong, despite the recent taboos that labeled tradition and ethnicity as mere superstition.
"Good afternoon, children."
Jack's eyes flickered away from the Indian girl to Brant as he made his way along the handholds.
He stopped as he reached the front of the group, his fingers still wrapped tightly around the handles to keep him steady in null-g as he looked onto them with an expression of extreme hatred.
Jack was taken aback by the transformation. Previously in Peterson's office, the man had seemed distant, yet kindly. Now he looked as if this launch group brought him some acute inexplicable displeasure.
"Right now I see a group of boys, but by the time we reach our destination, you'll find that Battle school is a place for men and men only. So take this time to grow up, because little else will be tolerated."
Jack noted that Brant's eyes never left the face of the Indian girl.
Several of the kids around him stole glances as well, and none of their expressions were too kindly.
It was hard to believe that these boys could be so naive. Brant was obviously setting them up, and each of them was playing their role magnificently. It seemed as though his purpose was to get all of them to despise the only female presence in the group, perhaps to isolate her, perhaps to force the rest of them to bond in their common hatred.
But Jack wouldn't fall for it. He'd break down the entire system before he let the IF destroy another unfortunate girl.
And yet Brant's behavior had become a mystery to him. He had seemed so concerned the previous day about Emma's welfare, that it seemed illogical that he'd begrudge the presence of a woman in the military.
Brant had been right. Everything that he would encounter throughout battle school would be a puzzle, even the people that he had once foolishly trusted.
And thus, Jack learned his first lesson about military life. Trust was an illusion created by the strong as a means of controlling the weak. He wouldn't fall for it again.
"I want you all to realize that few of you here are destined to lead, while the others are destined to follow. So choose your path of greatness, and choose it wisely, for the measure of a man's deeds does not rest in magnitude of his actions, only in his decisions made."
Some of the boys around him were nodding thoughtfully, but Jack was already shaking his head.
Brant must have seen him, which is exactly what he had hoped for.
"You disagree with me, Perry?"
Jack scowled openly. He wouldn't censor himself or become a different person, just because the IF wished to turn him into a soldier. He hated authority, and wouldn't back down from a decent argument with an authoritarian figure.
"Of course I do."
He also didn't bother to say 'sir' afterwards. Such technicalities seemed like an awful waist of words.
"And would you like to explain to the rest of us what makes you think you have such a profound insight?"
"Well, it's not so much that my opinions of greatness differ from yours, I merely shook my head because hypocrites are always amusing to watch in their own hypocrisy. You're telling us that greatness is not determined by the scale of a person's accomplishments, only by his or her righteousness. However, the IF is destroying the innocence of hundreds of children to achieve some greater cause. That implies that the military, including you, is following the concept of Machiavelli, 'The end justifies the means.' You can't possibly stand here and tell us that the magnitude of our deeds has no importance, and then help the battle school find fresh new kids to bend towards their grand scheme."
Brant remained silent, reminding Jack once more of the man he had only met yesterday in Peterson's office.
However, unlike their previous conversation, they now had an audience, and he knew that this time his words would hold more weight. The other children would listen, and although few realized it, the seed of rebellion had been planted in each of their minds.
"Keep talking like that, soldier, and I'll personally see to it that you're iced fast enough to make your piss freeze over."
The other boys laughed in response to Brant's blatant pun about being sent earth side. Jack wanted to laugh too, only because he knew that he had won. Sure, they snicker now, but because of this they'd soon admire him, consider him a part of the group, they'd even follow him.
Jack didn't want to be a leader, it wasn't his nature. But if by doing so he brought these boys into rebellion, he would be accomplishing what he set out to do from the start...Ruin the system that surely ruined his sister.
Brant left, and the chatter built up once more.
Soon several of the boys attempted to engage him in conversation, but Jack merely listened, adding in one word responses here and there until the other person got tired of continuing the dialogue on their own.
This, of course, only added to their admiration. To them he seemed reserved and intelligent, calculative and calm.
And Jack knew exactly how to use their respect.
He turned to the girl next to him, and spoke loudly enough for everyone in the shuttle to hear, yet softly enough to remain dignified.
"Hi. I'm Jack Perry," he said with a kind smile. The other boys noticed this, for he hadn't bothered to introduce himself to any of them, nor had he looked upon them with such warmth.
The girl didn't smile back, only flashed an odd expression.
"Virlomi," She replied, tilting her head slightly, still with that unreadable look in her eyes.
Jack knew now that the girl would no longer be considered the outcast of the group. Instead she'd be up there on Jack's level of high regard, all because he had used their admiration to achieve some good in this battle school society.
"Well, it's nice to meet you Virlomi."
"Yeah," piped in one of the more stubborn boys who had glared at the girl only a few minutes ago, "It's always incredible to see an Indian woman without a herd of goats."
It was a dumb thing to say, only because everyone knew it was meant more to insult than to provoke friendly banter.
None of the other boys laughed, having quickly picked up on the new social order, unlike the Portuguese kid with his snide remarks.
Jack smirked.
"You'll do well to shut your mouth before any more of your stupidity can leak out." He replied coolly causing the others to laugh, including Virlomi.
The boy, whose name was Marco, realized his mistake, and quickly joined in, "Hey, take it easy, York...Some people are proud of their stupidity."
Everyone laughed again, and the mood of the shuttle was now light and friendly.
York. The kid had must have picked up on Jack's New York accent, and decided to make reference to it in his remark. He didn't know it then, but the nickname would stick with Jack throughout his years in battle school.
"Yeah, I think we're all guilty of being a little proud, and maybe even a little stupid," said Shaia, the Israeli boy who sat next to Marco, but who the others referred to as Shay.
"Some more than others," Virlomi quipped, causing laughter to rise yet again from the group.
"And yet the IF seems to think that we're geniuses." Jack said, raising an eyebrow.
Marco waved his hand, as if to dismiss the notion. "What do they know anyway? The fleet is comprised of old men who have nothing better to do than sit around analyzing the acts of children."
Everyone nodded, and now it seemed common knowledge that the grown ups were the people they should resent, not their fellow launchies.
Jack had united them, made them whole, despite the attempts of Brant to cause dissention within the group.
He brought the pieces of the puzzle together, he made the threads of the canvas pull tighter to each other, and caused the hearts of children to bind to one another so closely that later they'd wonder how it was possible to gain such loyal companions in a place that taught them to act alone, think alone, and be alone...right down to the core of their existence, until even hope seemed the impossible, dreams mere illusions, and faith the friend of fools.